Donald
and Goofy, walking halls of white, diligently search for something
half-lost and forgotten. They don't even know if they are looking
for something or someone; they only know that they must find. Sora,
young and confused, walks the muzzy paths of his memories, falling in
holes and trying to patch rips with false remembrances.

They split ways after
Sora, in a moment of rashness and stubbornness, refuses to let go of
the girl whose name sits on the tip of his tongue but will not bear
the fruit of an image. They want to find what they were sent to
find. He wants the embrace of somebody he knows. Conflicting
interests tear them apart.

And so Sora journeys
on, walking and waiting, losing more memories, and Donald and Goofy
traverse the same hallway again and again without even realizing it,
intent on remembering what cannot be remembered.

The dark-coated
figures watch from the shadows and smile. Divide and conquer is an
old tactic, and a clichéd one at that, but it is effective and
probably the best way to dispatch the Keyblade Master. There is a
slight argument amongst them over who gets to deal the deathblow.

Blonde
and pretty Larxene, sadistic and cruel, wants to see him crumple.
Icy and strange Vexen wants him for experiments. Puzzling and
confounding Marluxia does not want him dead, but taken barely alive
for his own purposes. Soft and quiet Naminé wants nothing
more to do with these non-people and says nothing, holding her
sketchbook to her face, hiding tears of misery. She is the girl who
planted the seeds of mutiny with her whisper of a name. Fiery and
complex Axel also says nothing; he, however, works to his own agenda.
It is wise not to trust him, but with his coy words and his handsome
face, it is impossible not to.

He
slips away from the bickering threesome and lonesome fourth, a black
blemish in the pristine white, and slowly stalks the Keyblade Master,
waiting for the inevitable emotional breakdown.

It
takes longer than what Axel would have expected. Sora, while
immature and naïve, is strong from things he should know nothing
of. But his mind is fragile, and traveling through the past is
always dangerous.

Mental
footsteps have led him to a warm and cozy place, where the air smells
of water and salt, and strange birds caw overhead. This place has a
name, but it is gone for now, set to return later. Wooden planks
fade in and out, thick and distorted in his mind, and then suddenly
yellow fruit is in his hand. A star has fallen from the sky to land
in his palms.

"They
say that if two people share one, their destinies will become
intertwines."

The
voice is smooth and liquid and wonderfully masculine, and with it
comes a face. Slivery purple hair shifts in the wind, and cool,
bluish eyes regard him from a feminine-like face, a rather shocking
contrast to the muscled body slipping into view.

"Riku."
Spoken aloud, the name cuts through the fuzzy image and leaves
behind cold, hard darkness, thin fingers of it reaching out and
wrapping around Sora's body, winding around his ankles and snaking
up his legs. All around his body the darkness coils until it reaches
his throat, and then it is on his lips and in his mouth, and he
can't breath, and now it's covering his eyes, and he knows
he's going to die…

Sora heaves,
falling to his knees, palms pressed flat against the marble floor,
panting and gagging, sweat popping wetly on his body. Crouched on
all fours, he rests there, head pressed against the stone wall, body
hot and cold at the same time.

Another
memory stirs unbidden, cloudy and misty and it's more of a
half-remembered dream than anything else. Hands are on his hips,
large hands, rough and calloused from manual work. He is naked, on
hands and knees like he is now, only this time it's different.
Panting and scared, he shivers, and a hard body presses reassuringly
against his back.

"Don't
worry, Sora. I'll show you. I'll make it good for you."

Purple
hair dances just outside the corner of his vision.

Sora
gasps, reeling back so that he falls to the floor with a thump.
Heart pounding, his hand flutters nervously in front of him, worrying
his necklace and running through his hair. Blood rushes to his face,
and darkened with his blush, Sora picks himself up and moves on, head
held high and proud, red as his shorts.

Axel
watches in surprise and wonders what that was about.

Sora
hasn't got but ten paces when hormones catch up to him, and he
finds himself seeking out that dreamy memory. Shocked, he stops,
shakes his head firmly, and ventures forth, denying his body carnal
knowledge. Still though, those hands on his hips, that body against
his, the promises he knows are true, they all feel so good and
inviting. Parts of him usually silent now demand attention, all
because of a situation he cannot associate with.

"Why
would Riku…" he starts, and then he stops, because now he has
acknowledged it, and now he must face the fact that he has tiny
glimmerings of fantasies involving his enemy whom he doesn't wish
to fight. It's quite a revelation, and it is so unnerving, Sora
takes off in a run, a sort of desperate attempt to leave it all
behind.

Axel
shakes his head and watches him run, annoyed that his quarry is not
handing itself over. It reminds him of another, so different yet the
same.

Sora
reaches the end of the hallway, door looming ahead of him, and then
realizes he has no cards with which to open it. He spits a curse at
it and summons his Keyblade, just to see if it will work.

It
does not, and Sora slides limply to the ground, defeated. He sighs.
Goofy is gone, Donald is gone, even Jiminy is gone. There is no one
to chronicle the great Keyblade Master in his moment of un-glory.

Sitting there, in a
hallway that stretches on forever until parallel line meet, Sora
fluctuates between wakefulness and sleep, a place where dreams have
an eerie quality to realness, and a place where thoughts are best
left hidden. Idly, he recounts what he can remember of his mission,
of the thing Donald and Goofy are searching for, and of his old
friends, his now-enemy Riku and the girl who he knows exists yet is
just a wisp that flits through his mind.

The thought of Riku
brings tantalizing images of the dream-memory, and it triggers a
response from Sora's prone body. Emotionally, it also wakes things
best kept asleep.

Loneliness begins to
pervade his thoughts, and with the loneliness comes a swift
depression. Since Donald and Goofy left, he has not felt the
friendly touch of another being. The yearn to be touched, even if it
is just a pat on the back, makes Sora close his eyes and hang his
head.

He wants his old life
back, even though he can't remember it, and he wants to feel
welcome again. He is tired of this, constantly searching for
something he can never find, always on the run from enemies…why
must he be the one to carry the burden?

An explosion of anger
blossoms in his heart, and with that anger comes the want of talking
to someone, anyone who will listen. Instinct tells him Riku has once
been the person who he would bare his soul to; now, there is no one.
Feelings that have been bottled up too long, burst in a shower of
tears and sobs, and finally, Naminé's work has done its job.

Axel watches a while
longer and then moves in for the kill.

Sora is still crying
and sobbing and snorting when he realizes he is not alone. He opens
his eyes, though they don't open much – swollen from crying –
and black boots lined with silver fill his vision. He tilts his
head, and in slow motion, pants and a cloak come into view, followed
by arms and then a face.

Green eyes stare down
from a slightly pale face surrounded by red. The mouth smiles.
Sora's eyes widen. He scrambles to get up, to summon his Keyblade,
to do anything, but then the Nobody puts up his hands.

"Relax," it (for
what else can Sora call them; they are not people) says, "I'm not
here to fight you." It's not really a lie; Axel's here to kill
him, but hopefully fighting will not be involved. He taps his head.
"You're going to bring the entire castle running if you keep
screeching like that."

Sora turns red again
in embarrassment, but Axel brushes it off and kneels in front of him.

"So, you got a
reason for your little outburst, or have you finally gone insane?"

The sarcasm is
refreshing, and surprisingly, Sora is comforted by Axel's presence.

And then they find
themselves talking, and it is unexpected on both parts. Sora tells
Axel how heavy the Keyblade is in his hands, and how the burden
weighs him down so much; it feels as if he is drowning in air. He
says that he misses friends he doesn't know he has and how he keeps
losing Riku every time he finds him. In turn, Axel talks about how
easy it is to plant the seeds of doubt, and how it is easier still to
reap them. He adds on that they are impossible to kill. Like a
tough weed, they grow and grow until one day, they're all that's
left. Everything else is choked away.

As Sora talks on and
on, Axel disassociates himself from the brown-haired boy, prepping
himself for the obligatory strike of his weapon. And unlike striking
Heartless, there will be bloody resistance, and the body will not
fade away to dust. It is exhilarating and a bit arousing in a
twisted sense, and Axel readies himself further.

And then he notices
how heavy his weapon feels in his hand, and he is surprised before he
brushes it away. It is of no matter.

Sora pauses; he has
run out of things to say, and Axel tenses, ready to bring his weapon
crashing down upon the boy's head, but then Sora smiles at him, a
warm, bright smile, and Axel is caught off-guard. Behind his back,
his hands sway, and his weapon teeters dangerously within his grasp.

"Thank you for
listening," Sora says, and then reaches over and embraces the
Nobody. There is a clatter as Axel's arms fall to his side and his
weapons hit the ground before disappearing. Sora does not notice; he
is too lost within the realm of touch. It's been so long since he
held someone in his embrace, and he presses his face into Axel's
neck almost unconsciously, savoring the feel of another's flesh
against his flesh, another's hair mingling with his hair.

Axel freezes, taut and
unbelieving as Sora brings their bodies closer. His arms rise of
their own accord and hesitantly wrap around the smaller boy's back.
Vaguely, Axel realizes how small Sora actually is, and the thought
brings a smile to his lips.

Sora pulls away a
little, eyes unfocused and drugged from happiness at having another
body with his own, and he stares at Axel, a sleepy smile flitting
across his mouth. Again, Axel is struck at how much the two are
unalike. One is blonde and hard and cold, and one is brown and soft
and warm. An idea wiggles into his head, and it cannot be dispelled.

In reality, Axel
doesn't want to dispel it, only cultivate it further.

And so while he is
still not thinking properly, Axel catches Sora's chin with one
hand, and Sora's mouth drops open in an unasked question. And
that's fine by Axel.

He leans over, eyes
still locked with Sora's, and begins the swift descent to Sora's
mouth, his own mouth partially open as well. Before they touch, Axel
pauses for a moment, a sweet torture that makes Sora moan softly in
impatience, and then he is pressing his cold and unfeeling lips to
Sora's warm and inviting ones.

It is epiphany for
both.

Vague sensations crawl
up Axel's back, his lips warming to Sora's, and for Sora, all the
world has spiraled down to where their mouths meet, his lips trapped
between Axel's, and as those lips begin to move around his own,
sending sparks of pleasure through his body, Sora enters a state of
drunkenness, limp and flaccid, his fingers exploring Axel's hair.

Amongst the still
bickering three, Naminé happens to glance up at one of the
screens in the wall, and just happens to catch a glimpse of the two
in the monitor. Eyes widen and she blushes, but she saves the moment
away for later use. The Nobodies don't notice.

Axel and Sora's kiss
doesn't last very long, though time seems to have stopped for the
two of them. Axel breaks away first, and before Sora can open his
eyes, Axel is gone in a portal of darkness, leaving Sora to wonder if
it was all a dream.

He shrugs it off as
such, for in that strange world between sleep and awakening, dreams
seem real and reality seems like a dream, and then he is off, good
humor restored, looking for his friends.

Time passes as
normally as it can in Castle Oblivion, and when it comes time for
Axel to reveal himself as a betrayer, a surprise is left behind.

On the little white
table, where Naminé used to sit, there is a picture. Red
squiggles and brown squiggles meet and mingle, and Axel understands
this to be Naminé's gift for her freedom. He tucks it away
in his sleeve; it would do no good for Roxas to see.

'oOo'

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